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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516224">A Blade to the Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_stupidhours/pseuds/its_stupidhours'>its_stupidhours</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Crankiplier One-shots [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No YouTube, Blacksmithing, Drabble, M/M, One Shot, crafting festivals, knives but they are not used, mark makes a knife for Ethan and they're gay for each other is that too much to ask</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:40:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,762</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516224</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_stupidhours/pseuds/its_stupidhours</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>That morning, he had gotten an urgent call from his friend Mika. He had picked it up, thinking it was something actually important, but no, it was just her telling him that he needed to "get out of the house for once" and to "stop moping" and that "I know you work from home, Ethan, but the quarantine's over and you need to get some sun, jesus christ your skin looks like copy paper at this point." So he, being the good friend that he was, agreed to go to the traditional crafting festival that was happening right outside of town.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>In which Ethan goes to a crafting festival and meets a very hot blacksmith.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Crankiplier One-shots [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1695949</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>219</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Blade to the Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey y'all! This is pretty short (and also probably pretty shitty, I have not proofread it), but this idea’s been in my mind for a bit, ever since I went to this Celtic festival with my mom’s friend like two months ago and saw a cool blacksmithing guy (no I’m not breaking the social distancing rules, don’t worry lol), and I wanted to get it written. That is… quite a long time to be a “bit”, but shh. I’m writing it now, and that’s what counts. </p><p>Also I swear I'll get back to the Battle of the Bands fic soon. Not sure when that “soon” will be but it will be at some point. I totally haven’t been writing bullshit on wattpad the past week or so instead of working on that (or on the online school work that I ACTUALLY have to do), pshh, no, what are you talking about???</p><p>Disclaimer: This is not meant to disrespect to Mark, Ethan, Amy, or Mika in any way, I 100% respect the relationships they're in and I hope they stay in them and are happy together for a long, long time. I don't think that Mark and Ethan ever have been, currently are, or probably ever will be in a relationship, I just wanted to write something and have fun. If you or anyone you know is listed as a character in this fic then what!! Are you doing here?!??!??? Please turn back now how did you even get this far please leave now you weren't meant to read this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ethan looked around the field he was standing in, trying to decide what to do. It wasn’t empty, far from it, actually, there were just </span>
  <em>
    <span>so many</span>
  </em>
  <span> stands to look at that he wasn’t sure what to do first. There was also the problem that he didn’t really want to do any of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That morning, he had gotten an urgent call from his friend Mika. He had picked it up, thinking it was something actually important, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>no,</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was just her telling him that he needed to “get out of the house for once” and to “stop moping” and that “I know you work from home, Ethan, but the quarantine’s over and you need to get some sun, jesus christ your skin looks like copy paper at this point.” So he, being the good friend that he was, agreed to go to the traditional crafting festival that was happening right outside of town. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mika had started the day out by dragging him around to the different stands, stopping at nearly each one to look at what all the people did. And Ethan would admit, a lot of it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> pretty interesting. There was someone who carved little flutes out of bamboo stalks, for fuck’s sake. You can’t exactly get cooler than that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But eventually, his feet started to hurt, so he told Mika that he was going to sit down for a bit and that they could meet up again in a couple minutes or so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was an hour ago. Mika was still gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So now he was here, standing in the middle of a pretty busy field, being pretty bored, looking for his friend. Logistically, Ethan knew that he was an adult who could walk around a crafting festival on his own, but he was starting to get lonely. Also hungry, and Mika was the one who had the map and knew where to find the food. (Of course, he could go back to the entrance and get a map for himself, but where was the fun in that? Nowhere, that’s where.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From a ways off, Ethan could smell some smoke, and at events like this, smoke usually meant food, right? He turned in a circle, trying to figure out where it was coming from, before determinedly marching off in that direction. He didn’t need Mika. Well, he did need her to get home, but he’d find her later. He was fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He eventually made it to a slightly clearer part of the festival area, where a small crowd was gathered around what he assumed was another stand, except that there wasn’t a tent over this one like all of the others. A loud clanging was ringing out from the stand, and while this </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t food, Ethan’s curiosity got the best of him, forcing him to move closer. His smaller frame allowed him to easily slide up into the front row of the crowd, where he got a clear view of what was going on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, first of all, it wasn’t exactly a </span>
  <em>
    <span>stand,</span>
  </em>
  <span> per say, yet again differing from all the other spots Ethan had seen so far by simply being a small roped off circle, the ground of which was covered with at least an inch of sawdust. In the middle of the circle was an anvil, upon which sat a heavy looking hammer. A table near the edge of the circle held similar tools. Near the back of the circle, directly opposite of Ethan, there was a small forge, which was obviously where the smoke was coming from, and standing right by the entrance of the forge was one of the hottest men Ethan had ever seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan blinked at his own thoughts. It wasn’t like he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> hot, he reasoned with himself. Sure, his dark hair looked amazing, and his tan skin was beautiful, the heavy apron that was on him was covered in soot and only served to show how hard the man was working, and his toned arms were… </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ok maybe he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> one of the hottest men Ethan had ever seen. So what? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man took whatever he was waiting on in the forge out with the tongs he had been holding on to, turning quickly towards the audience with a smirk. He placed it on the anvil, adjusting it with his tongs a little bit before picking up the hammer and hitting it with a few light blows before picking it back up and inspecting it. He turned back to the forge, but instead of placing it there, he dunked the thing into a bucket of what looked like water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And there we go! Now that I’ve quenched it, the metal’s hardened and cooled down, making it safe to touch,” The man said, shaking the thing off and dropping it from the tongs into his gloved hand. “All done! A three-pronged fork, for the little lady right here.” He quickly took a rag from his pocket and dried it off, then turned to a small child standing with her dad, bowing dramatically as he presented it to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little girl giggled. “It’s a threek!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh of course, my mistake. Your threek, madam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She giggled again, taking the small tool from the man’s hands, walking off with her dad as the blacksmith stood up again. He turned to his table of tools, picking up a small rod of metal from the scrap pile next to it. He dramatically looked amongst the crowd. “And now what should I make next?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several shouts were heard from the small crowd, but the man ignored all of them, instead turning his attention to Ethan as soon as his eyes landed on him. Ethan blushed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your name?” asked the blacksmith, walking closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um… It’s Ethan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you Ethan, I’m Mark.” He stuck his hand across the rope that divided his stand from the rest of the field and Ethan took it. Pulling away from the handshake, Ethan could feel a light itching on his hands, but he thought nothing of it. “You want me to make you something? It’s on the house, don’t worry.” Mark flashed a smile, and Ethan blushed harder, biting his lip. “Or I could just decide for you, that’s fine too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan chuckled. “How about you do that, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark nodded and stepped back, tossing the small rod of metal in his hands. “How about a knife? That’s always fun, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan nodded back, not able to tear his eyes away from mark because </span>
  <em>
    <span>holy shit this hot guy was going to make him a </span>
  </em>
  <span>knife</span>
  <em>
    <span> just because, holy </span>
  </em>
  <span>shit— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark smiled again, winking (holyshitsholyshith</span>
  <em>
    <span>olyshit),</span>
  </em>
  <span> then turned and grabbed the rod with the tongs and put it in the forge. He explained what he was doing as he made it, showing it off to the audience every once in a while as the process continued. Every ten minutes or so, he’d show it to Ethan and ask for his opinion, and the other man would say something along the lines of “Yeah man, looks great!” while trying his best to not show how much he liked the blacksmith.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark noticed, of course, but he wasn’t going to say anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After about an hour and a half (by which point Ethan definitely wished he had found lunch before this), Mark held up the knife after hammering it one last time. It definitely looked like a knife now, one of its edges starting to look fairly sharp. He quenched it in the bucket, then held it by the part of it that hadn’t been pointed into an edge and picked up a sharpener from the tool table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, so all I’ve got to do is sharpen it just a bit, and then we’re done!” He did just that, brandishing it to the crowd once he had finished. “And there we go! Um, I’m going to go on my lunch break now, sorry to disappoint anyone who might have been waiting—” There were a couple groans in the crowd at that, but Mark just chuckled. “Anyways, thank you all for being a wonderful audience! I’ll be back in about an hour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd started to disperse, but Mark caught Ethan’s eye before he was able to leave. “But not you, you stay. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> make this knife for you, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah yes, how could I have forgotten?” Ethan chuckled, reaching out to take the knife from Mark, but the other man stopped right before Ethan could touch it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, are you allergic to peanuts?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan furrowed his brow. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I quench all my stuff in peanut oil. Not a big deal, usually, because most of it will dry off, but if you’re, like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>deathly</span>
  </em>
  <span> allergic I don’t think you should be touching this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan almost laughed. Almost. “What a coincidence, I’m deathly allergic to peanuts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark’s face fell. “Oh, no shit. Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, one-five-hundredth of a peanut can kill me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> laugh at that, as if in disbelief, putting the knife on the tool table and getting out a small sign from underneath the table that said “Out for Lunch” and placed it on one of the side ropes. He took his gloves and apron off, shaking his head as he chuckled a couple more times. “Wow, imagine that. I spend all this time making a knife for the cutest boy at this festival and I can’t even give it to him…” He smiled up at Ethan as he stepped over the rope. “Sorry about that. I really should have asked about the peanut thing first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan blinked, trying to process the sudden drastic shrink in distance between him and Mark. “Wait, you think I’m cute?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah. Have you seen yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you seen </span>
  <em>
    <span>yourself?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark laughed, taking Ethan’s hand and leading him across the field. “Let me make it up to you, I’ll buy you lunch. If that’s ok, of course?” He paused suddenly, already taking his hand away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s perfect, actually!” Ethan quickly grabbed his hand back, smiling when Mark suddenly blushed. “I still haven’t eaten lunch yet, I’m fucking starving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good thing I know where the food trucks are.” Mark smiled back, quickly leading Ethan through the wild array of stands in the field. “And hey, maybe after this, you can come visit my home forge and I’ll make you another knife. One not drenched in peanut oil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds a lot like a date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe it is one.” Mark glanced back at Ethan, who just smiled again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be there.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Me: *googles what liquid blacksmiths quench knives in*<br/>Google: "The two most common food grade oils used in this process are peanut and canola oil."<br/>Me: oH BOY it's BIG BRAIN TIME</p></blockquote></div></div>
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